


A Bad Neighborhood

by PorkWig



Category: Person of Interest (TV), Sesame Street (TV)
Genre: Crack Crossover, Gen, Humor, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-19
Updated: 2013-11-19
Packaged: 2018-01-02 02:30:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1051464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PorkWig/pseuds/PorkWig
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reese and Shaw prepare for a mission on Sesame Street.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Bad Neighborhood

“Our Number is Oscar T. Grouch,” Finch announced, after swallowing a bite of donut. “There wasn’t much to find for this gentleman. No driver’s license, no passport, no online presence. Not even a tax return. Just a library card and an account with the Department of Sanitation. Which explains why we don’t have a photo or even a physical description.”

“Great,” muttered Shaw. “Do we at least have an address?”

“123 and a half Sesame Street. Google Street View seems to show that address as a garbage can. Must be a bug."

Reese paled. “Sesame Street?” He opened a metal supply box and slipped a few extra grenades into his pockets. “Wear your vest, Shaw.”

“Ha. You think I don’t know what that area’s like? It’s full of freaks!” She grinned, then bent over in order to strap four additional knives to her calves. “That hood’s full of monsters and weirdos and some gigantic yellow dude they call ‘Big.’ It’s insanity. Like if all of West Hollywood was high on peyote on Halloween. Only with fewer feathers and more fur.” Knives fastened, she stood, a predatory smile growing by the second. “This is my kinda job.”

Reese put the grenade box away and slipped a set of brass knuckles into each coat pocket. “I once made the mistake of going through there as a shortcut. A chubby blue guy with a voice like Tom Waits was panhandling for ‘cookies,’ whatever that means. He jumped me from behind and took a bite out of the armored briefcase I was handcuffed to.” He looked down at Bear, shuddering at the memory. “The money inside spilled out, and then a vampire insisted on counting every $100 bill. It took him four hours.”

Shaw chuckled. “I was doing a freelance job a couple months ago. Shadowing a guy in the area. No way he would have made me, but then this skinny-ass purplish-blue guy _fell onto me_ from a rooftop. He was wearing a fucking gladiator helmet and a red cape. A _cape!_ Dude was probably on crack _and_ meth, or some shit.”

It was then that Reese and Shaw noticed that Finch was staring out the window, morose.

“Something wrong, Boss?”

“Under my ‘Wren’ persona, I befriended a coworker at IFT. I knew he lived on Sesame Street and I was worried for him, but he said he felt safe there-- That it always felt like a sunny day, everything A-okay.” A sigh. “One evening, he went to Mr. Hooper’s Bodega to buy some paperclips. On his way out, he was caught in a drive-by pie-throwing.” Finch’s voice cracked with emotion. “The whipped cream suffocated him in under a minute. His life-partner of forty years was so distraught that he drowned himself in the bathtub that same night.”

Finch wiped his eyes with a handkerchief. “Every day, when I make my way to the tubby, I find a little fella who’s cute and yellow and chubby…" A sniffle. "It's a vinyl toy duck. A Christmas gift from them, and I keep it there in remembrance of my dear friends.”

Reese put a comforting hand on Finch’s shoulder. “Whether this guy Oscar is a vic or a perp, we’ll be making Sesame Street that much safer. It’s time for us to take out the trash.”

Finch nodded solemnly. His faith in Mr. Reese was well-placed. “Remember that there’s a great deal of road work and numerous street closures in that area. You won’t be able to take the obvious routes.”

Reese nodded. “So… Can you tell me how to get-” He paused to pick up a grenade that had fallen out of his coat. “How to get to Sesame Street?”

The End


End file.
